Josie was three years old when she realized she wasn’t like the people who came into her parent’s club. Realized, but wasn’t surprised.
Even though she was just a toddler, part of her knew there was a chance this would happen. Some child psychologist would no doubt try to claim otherwise, that no way could someone as young as her comprehend this, but Josie could, many children could, it just was that adults were too wrapped up in themselves to know this.
She knew because her grandparents, aunts, and uncles were different. They could do things with sticks they called wands. They could clean without a vacuum or dust rag. They could wash dishes without touching them. They were witches and wizards. Mommy and daddy were something called Squibs. They couldn’t do magic.
But Josie could. She knew that now. She knew because of the lamb.
She had just been singing. A new song she had learned from one of the people who sang at mommy and daddy’s club. It was called Mary Had A Little Lamb. Josie had learned it, sang it, and then suddenly the guitar that the man had been playing had been turned into a lamb.
Mommy had to make a phone call while the man had been panicking. Daddy did what he could to keep the man in place.
Then Grandmama Watson appeared. That’s what she always told Josie to call her. Not granny or gammie like Granny Alperstein, it had to be Grandmama Watson who got very upset that Josie could not educate the words correctly.
Grandmama coolly took charge, turning the lamb back into a guitar and altering the man’s memories. Then she took mommy, daddy, and Josie to the club’s office.
“Well, it seems blood would win out.” Grandmama Watson said in her clip, cold tones as she slid into daddy’s chair. Then she stood and waved her wand at it, turning it from the green naugahyde into soft black leather, making it flare out more on the sides, and larger so it looked more imposing before sitting back down in it. “This means, of course, that Josie can no longer live here.”
“We are not giving up our daughter!” Both mommy and daddy said at the same time, putting their hands on her shoulders and pulling her towards them.
Grandmama waved her hand dismissively. “I’m not saying that at all. Of course you two will come live at the manor too. Or in the guest house if you prefer. You can even keep running your club. But you saw what happened today. She managed a rather complicated transfiguration just by singing. Imagine what would happen should she have done it when the place was full of NoMajs instead of just one. Aurors would be descending on this place and you’d be sure to lose her for good. They wouldn’t take the chance of the S.O.S. being violated by the magic child of two squibs.”
Isaac Watson hesitated. He could see his mother’s point, but at the same time he also knew how it was to be raised by her.
“Certainly there’s some other solution....” He began. “Perhaps - well, there must be other wizards and witches who want to learn how to blend into NoMaj society, perhaps some hopeful future Ministry officials. If we had a few here and there on staff....”
Greta nodded, her hand tight on her daughter’s shoulder. “And if anyone can teach them how who better than a couple of squibs who managed to assimilate fully?”
Grandmama smiled, a real smile for once, not her icy, pretend one. “Ah, Isaac, you truly are my son. What a powerful wizard you would have made. But then again, I might not have my granddaughter.” She now looked at Josie, not with warmth but with greed. “A powerful little witch indeed to be able to transfigure with a song. Technically pureblood too. What a fine match you’ll make someday....”
..............
Childhood was quiet and uneventful after that. Josie learned how to control her powers so she wouldn’t accidently cast spells while singing. Young wizards and witches came and went at the club, learning enough to be able to hide in plain sight amongst the NoMajs and moving on to careers in the Ministry and other fields. Sometimes Grandmama Watson would come to give Josie lessons on manners and her family tree. Grandmama even researched mommy’s family tree.
Unlike other witches and wizards, Grandmama never hid the darker side of the family. She told Josie which ones had practiced the Dark Arts and how they ended their days. She also taught about great great aunt Agatha Watson, who’s history was not as dark as people thought it would turn out.
“She was a parseltongue,” Grandmama was saying as she showed Josie a picture of a woman who looked a lot like an older, if thinner, Josie. “Many thought that would mean she would turn to the Dark Arts, but she was more into wealth then power and used her talent to con the NoMajs into paying her. I’m not entirely sure of all the ways she used it, but she never really used it to harm anyone and she only took from the NoMajs who could afford to lose a few of their hoarded coins. Still, because people assume those who have such talents are evil she came to a wicked and unjust end.” Then grandmama looked very sternly at Josie. “Josie, my dear, if you should ever show signs of being a parseltongue yourself, you must never, ever tell anyone, not even me. There are many who will think you’re evil just because you look like my Great Aunt Agatha. If it turns out you have more than just the ability to use NoMaj music as spells, you will come to a bad end.”
When Josie had a chance, she talked to Granny Alperstein about it. The woman had just shook her head and said simply, “It’s not one’s talents that make one good or evil, it’s what they choose to do with those talents. Now, sing that song about rain, would you dear? My garden could use a bit of a sprinkle.”
At some point during all this was the rise of the one people called The Dark Lord, He Who Must Not Be Named, and while there were Death Eaters in America, Josie seemed to be overlooked. Perhaps because of how she looked, a chubby going to fat child who looked about as powerful as a NoMaj puff pastry. Perhaps it was because, like Grandmama Watson said, she was technically a pure blood. After all, her parents might be squibs who managed to so fully assimilate into NoMaj society they even ran a successful jazz club, but they were still the squibs of two pure blood families who produced a magical child.
Then suddenly the Dark Lord was no more because of some baby named Harry Potter and everyone was happy for awhile.
On the day she entered Ilvermony Josie didn’t even get to fully step into the sorting area before the Pukwudgie statue flashed so bright and hard that everyone had to blink. Only Josie noticed that a split second later the Horned Serpent had also flashed, but not brightly or quickly enough.
School was uneventful, unless one counted the usual bullies, both students and teachers, that Josie had to put up with. She got good grades and as she got older she was asked more and more often if there were any special boys at school, especially by Grandmama, who kept throwing lavish parties and inviting every wizard boy from a powerful family that was a year or more older than her.
Josie, however, had no interest in boys. Nor girls even though Granny Alperstein thought that might be the case, which angered Grandmama Watson to no end. They nearly ended up having a duel over it.
Ten years after graduating Josie was finally hit one day by the realization she had never felt that way towards anyone of any gender. She simply did not feel attraction at all.
What made her realize this was, of all things, a vampire.
Grandmama Watson was now so desperate to see her granddaughter “properly wed” that she would invite any magic based person or creature. Once she even went so far as to see if the rumors of a centaur herd hiding in Yosemite was true just to invite them to a party. After all, Josie “wasn’t getting any younger.” She didn’t find any centaurs but she did find a vampire.
His name, or at least the one he went by this century, was Chadwick. He had been around long enough to have gone through a multitude of names. He had been a wizard from a long standing pure blood family. So as far as Grandmama Watson was concerned he was better than no husband at all.
“After all, if she won’t give me great grandchildren then at least she could go on as an immortal.”
Josie didn’t understand why Grandmama cared so much. Her other sons and daughters had provided her with a slew grandchildren, some of whom had brought forth great grandchildren of their own by now, though some not in circumstances Grandmama would prefer. In other words, not married.
Chadwick was pale, of course, unless he had recently fed. With kind of a mousy brown hair that had been going gray when he had been turned. Tall, fully clothed there were those who would call him lanky and “a pipe cleaner.” But at a night time pool party it was clearly seen that he was covered in lean muscles.
He courted Josie, slow and easy, the way anyone who could afford to take time did. Unlike others who called her things like “fatty fatty two by four” and “wide load” he called her “a divine fertility goddess” and “voluptuous.” He made her feel pretty, desirable, wanted, cherished....
And that was just the problem. He MADE her feel these ways. Josie was sure he even made her feel her attraction towards him. Her feelings weren’t real. And that’s when it finally hit her that she simply did not feel attraction. She had no desire to be in a relationship. To share a bed with anyone in that matter. A dog or cat was enough of a companion for her. So she told Chadwich to beat wing back home - more specifically she cast a spell to drive him away by singing the chorus of “Hit The Road Jack” to him - and Grandmama was mad. She even threatened to use the Imperius curse on Josie to force her to wed someone of Grandmama’s choice.
By this time Josie, while not an official Auror in any way, shape, or form, had enough of a reputation to be on the list unofficially. Her ability to use NoMaj songs as spells instead of the usual words and motions made her a good choice for any time they needed to infiltrate a NoMaj club or party. All they had to do was use a few spells to make people think she was part of the entertainment and then let her do her thing.
She had learned through the years that not every NoMaj song could do magic. The ones that did if one traced the composers or the singers who made it popular’s family tree you could always find at least some blood connection to a witch or wizard. Perhaps their great-great-great-great grandfather had been a squib, for instance. So blood would tell in the end in more than just one’s physical offspring.
Because of Grandmama’s threat to force her into a marriage and having children Josie sought out the help of a NoMaj doctor who did a surgery no magic could fix to remove those organs needed to make a baby. That way even if Grandmama succeeded at forcing her to wed, she still would not be forced to be used as some brood mare.
All Josie had ever wanted to do was sing like the people at her parent’s club. To make people smile, and cry, and dance. Being magic took a lot of that away from her. She could sing for wizards and witches and magical beings, but never for NoMajs. There was too much of a risk that singing something like “Stormy Weather” would cause an actual thunderstorm, never mind something like “It’s Raining Men” which should only be sung over very soft ground and even then it was a good idea to have lots of healing potions on hand.
As for “Bohemian Rhapsody,” that song was simply so powerful it could practically be an Unforgivable.
So Josie resigned herself to being nothing more than someone called upon when MACUSA needed her and nothing more. Fulfilling neither her nor her Grandmama’s dreams.
That was until one day she got a letter from the current head of Ilvermony asking if she would like to teach a class showing others how NoMaj music could be used in casting spells.
She would get to sing for others after all. Just not in the way she imagined.
As for Grandmama Watson, well, she’s still determined to make her “old maid” of a granddaughter marry.
~End~